I'm Lindsay Ferrier, a Nashville writer with a passion for family travel, exploring Tennessee, and raising kids without losing my mind in the process. This is where I share my discoveries, along with occasional deep thoughts, pop culture tangents and a sprinkling of snark. Want to get in touch? Use the CONTACT form at the top of the page.
January 1, 2015
I said in my last post that I’m writing less now about my kids- which is true — at least here on this blog.
The truth is, though, that I write about them plenty on Facebook. It just seems better suited for the subject. For one thing, they often say funny or perceptive things that don’t warrant an entire blog post, but make for a great Facebook post. For another, many of my Facebook friends are their relatives, former teachers, or friends’ parents, so there’s a receptive audience for their stories.
Still, I want to make sure that all of those posts and photos aren’t forgotten in my Facebook feed– and so at the end of each year, I compile this post for my blog. It includes all of my favorite Facebook posts and photos of the year. And for those of you who miss all the stories of Punky and Bruiser, this post is for you! In addition to me– the obsessive archivist.
And now, without further adieu … OUR YEAR ON FACEBOOK.
January 9:
I am traveling on a shoot WITH MY FAMILY for the first time. This is a true milestone for me- I have loved traveling the country over the last few years and getting to meet so many interesting people, but I have HATED leaving my family behind. Now, they’re doing it with me! So instead of riding from one place to another with the crew today, worrying about what my kids were doing back at home, I was playing Rock, Paper, Scissors with my son and feeling truly, deeply happy and GRATEFUL.
January 10: Guess who just swam with manatees?
January 11: Dancing the night away at Hollerbach’s in Sanford, Fl!
January 13: A windy winter Florida day!
January 14:
“Mommy, what am I gonna be when I’m big?” my 6 year old asked me worriedly yesterday. “I think I’m gonna be a lego maker, but I need something else, just in case.”
“Um, you could make video games for iPads,” I suggested. “Or you could be an architect and design buildings. You’d be good at that.”
“I think you should be a mathmagician,” my 9 year old said. “Because you’re really good at math.”
“But I’m not good at magician-ing,” my 6 year old said. “I tried it and I wasn’t good at it.”
“No, not a MAGICIAN,” my 9 year old said patiently. “A MATHmagician. That’s what they call people who are really good at math. A MATHMAGICIAN.”
“Okay,” my 6 year old said happily. “You’re right. I think I’ll be a mathmagician!”
AWESOME.
January 17:
January 18:
Recently, we took our six year old to a hip new burger joint in my not-so-hip, “family friendly” neighborhood of Bellevue. We were seated at a communal table and my kid IMMEDIATELY got the side eye from the hipsters sitting on both sides of us– not for doing anything wrong– just by virtue of his six-year-old-ness. To avoid any future confusion, I feel the need to lay it out for any and all 20 somethings in hillbilly beards and/or chunky glasses who want to eat at a restaurant in my ‘hood.
1. If the restaurant has a kids menu, it is definitely okay for kids to eat there– whether you like children or not.
2. This is Bellevue. Land O’ Families. Don’t act like you didn’t know this when you were driving out here in your hybrid cars. You knew this. I KNOW you knew this. I generally leave the kids at home when I have dinner in YOUR trendy Nashville neighborhoods, but in Bellevue you’re on MY turf, brogan-wearers. And I don’t care how many varieties of locally sourced bacon and craft beers our restaurants choose to carry– There will be children.
Oh yes.
There will be children.
January 26: A dreamy day in the midst of a long, cold winter.
January 26: I die. #sixyearoldsrule
My 78-year-old dad got stranded on the road yesterday while trying to get home from his office in Atlanta. He left work at 1pm. At 2:30am, his car was almost out of gas, so he abandoned it in the middle of a major road and walked to a fire station, where he spent the night with about 50 other stranded motorists.
Forgive me if I’m not laughing today about the “Snowpocalypse.” Seeing all the stories on my Facebook feed from friends and family members in the Atlanta area, I’m horrified.
Bruiser: How much Super Bowls is there?
Dennis: There’s one a year.
Punky: So, there’ve been 2,014 Super Bowls since Jesus died?
Dennis: No, not that many.
Punky: Well I bet they were a lot simpler a thousand years ago.
Bruiser: Hey Mommy! Who’s stronger, Spiderman or Thor?
Me: Spiderman.
Bruiser: See Punky? MOMMY says Spiderman is stronger!
Punky: You’re going to believe it just because Mommy says so? If Mommy said to jump off a cliff, would you do it?
Bruiser: Yes.
…This is why I love boys.
My 6-year-old woke up at 5am with the stomach flu. After getting out of bed at that godforsaken hour (and going through an entire bottle of Resolve carpet cleaner cleaning up the mess), I have now played Monopoly Jr, Ned’s Head, Bop It, and Whack-a-Mole, watched Paranorman, Space Jam, and Super Mario Brothers (and been severely chastised if I looked away from the TV screen for even one second), cuddled and snuggled, and read Where the Sidewalk Ends until I was hoarse. My brain = mush.
And how was your day?
I was wondering well look at this dog. She looks like Dottie [sweet and adorable] and she needs a home please please please please please please PPPPPPPLLLLLLLLLEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAASSSSSSS
I’M DESPERATE.
Love and Yours Truly,
Words of wisdom from Bruce Dobie for all my writer friends:
“Go tell some stories. Tell some stories, because human beings have been telling stories since the dawn of time, just like the Greeks did. Tell the stories that people will read, that hit you in the gut, spin your head, and cause you to arise from your morning stupor and say, to no one in particular, “Oh, shit.” Tell the stories and the rest will take care of itself. Don’t worry about whether you should put it in print, or on a phone, or on a laptop, or on a tablet, because ultimately this will take care of itself. If it’s good, and people want to hear about it, it’ll work anywhere.”
I sat among the opposing team at my kid’s soccer game today and for fun, made a list of what I overheard:
“What time is your tee off?”
“He’s just bought Alec Baldwin’s old apartment in Manhattan.”
“Jasper’s at a Lacrosse game.”
“Who is it that’s redoing that Italian villa two doors down from you? Why didn’t they just bulldoze it and start over?”
“Your Lexus is a hybrid?”
“He’s my favorite anesthesiologist.”
“He’s head of a Fortune 500 hospital management company.”
“We stayed at a resort there. In a condo, so we could spread out.”
“If you’re willing to pay and you know the people, it’ll be one of the best meals of your life.”
“I employ a nurse practitioner.”
“We’re considering adding noise to our line of electrical cars.”
“Your caddy needs to take every club in the bag and break it in.”
“They’re studying the Revolutionary War right now and all I can think is ‘Time for another trip to Williamsburg!'”
“They just started a beer brewing company.”
Best of all, one of them was wearing a t-shirt that said LIVE SIMPLY.
I’m pretty sure they were all from Fairview.
April 13: I think he may have found his calling. — at Clumpies Ice Cream Co.
I took the kids to my church’s Maundy Thursday service tonight and when we all went up to take communion, my 7 year old son took hold of the bread with both hands and began trying to rip a large chunk off. “Take just a small piece, Bruiser!” I whispered sternly.
“It’s okay, you can have all you want!” the pastor said, trying not to laugh. He took her at her word and got a piece big enough to take back to the pew and munch on for the next five minutes. I was mortified.
“You’re only supposed to take a tiny pinch, Bruiser,” I whispered once we were in the pews.
“She SAID to take as much as I wanted!” he replied loudly.
After he’d finished, he leaned over to me. “That was so good,” he said. “Can we get some more at the store?”
Forgive him, Father, for he knows not what he does.
My daughter actually cried yesterday for the first time ever about her upcoming TCAP standardized test. “There’s just so much PRESSURE!” she said. “I’m so WORRIED!” I told her that she had absolutely nothing to worry about, and tried to explain that everyone at her school is in a tizzy about TCAP because the results affect the teachers and administrators as much as the kids.
“I think I get standardized testing now,” she said a little later, after she’d thought about it for a while. “The state puts pressure on the district. The district puts pressure on the principals. The principals put pressure on the teachers. The teachers put pressure on the students. And the students put pressure on themselves.”
And that is a ten year old’s assessment of TCAP.
Bam.
April 22: Winning. — at Churchill Downs.
April 26: The thrill of victory… The agony of defeat. — at Churchill Downs.
May 3: Derby bound!
May 3: With Kiel James Patrick and Sarah Vickers on the red carpet. That mint julep he’s holding will set you back $1,000!
May 3: On the terrace of Millionaires Row. Gorgeous day. — at Churchill Downs- Kentucky Derby.
May 3: So much fun.
May 3: Getting ready for the big race. My money is on California Chrome and Wicked Strong! — at Churchill Downs- Kentucky Derby.
May 9: Don’t hate the player. Hate the game. #tbt
My 7 year old’s surprise singing appearance at church yesterday has sparked a new interest in singing. On the way home, he announced that he’d probably be borrowing his sister’s microphone and stand for the day so that he could practice… and last night when I was saying prayers with him, I said “God thank you for giving me a son who’s so smart and brave and funny and kind…” “And a singer!” he whispered loudly. “And he’s such a great singer,” I finished. “Thank you for that.”
I love this boy.
There was a 10-minute slideshow in the middle of my daughter’s 4th grade graduation ceremony today. After getting multiple e-mails over the last few weeks begging for MORE PICTURES of the kids so that everyone would be included in this slideshow, I finally went through all of my photos, pulled every single one I could find of any child in her grade, and sent them in. Punky was in a bunch of them, of course, but I figured they’d use only the ones they needed– or crop her out so that every child would be featured at least a few times.
The slideshow started and… y’all. THEY — USED ALL OF THE PICTURES. Every. Single. One. And there weren’t many others until the slideshow reached the kids’ fourth grade year. So basically, a big sanctuary full of people was treated to a slideshow of PUNKY FERRIER (AND FRIENDS): THE ELEMENTARY SCHOOL YEARS. After a few (dozen) photos of her flashed on the screen, I started giggling out of sheer mortification. And then it occurred to me that people probably thought I had made the slideshow myself, and that idea was so embarrassing that I started laughing harder. And then they announced that you could buy the slide show on DVD for $20, and I laughed so hard, I had tears in my eyes. People probably thought I was nuts.
I’m thinking now that it’s a good thing I will never have to face most of those parents again…
“Did you have fun?” I asked my 10-yr-old daughter after a birthday party this morning at the roller rink.
“Yeah, but the DJ never played the song I requested,” she pouted.
“He didn’t?” I asked. “What did you request?”
“White Blank Page,” she said.
“Ohhhhh,” I said.
I paused for a moment.
“I hate to break it to you, Punky,” I said, “but I’m pretty sure the roller rink DJ doesn’t ever play Mumford and Sons.”
After years of mindless surfing while I should be working/sleeping/productive, tonight it happened: I finally reached the end of the Internet. I have seen all there is to see.
On the upside, I’ll finally have time to learn to play the dulcimer now.
May 30: First day of elementary school / Last day of elementary school.
This all went by too fast.
May 30: The last day of school is claw machine day- this year, with friends! Everyone was a winner!
We won’t discuss how much I spent.
Thank you for the birthday wishes everyone! I had a great day. My 10-year-old daughter made me a card and told me she thought it was the best card she had ever written. Here’s what it said:
“Well for a child, a birthday is a very special day because you get older and more privileges and more grown up.
But for a grown-up, getting older is usually a bad thing. You know, wrinkles and everything.
So today, we might not be celebrating you getting older but we are celebrating a wonderful person being born.”
Best. Birthday card. Ever. 🙂
My 7-year-old is at Civil War Camp this week and is LOVING it. He’s a Union soldier– Yesterday, he fought in “The Battle of Get-zys-burg” and was proud to tell me that he only died twice!
Meanwhile, my 10-year-old is at equestrian camp. Yesterday, she fell off a horse for the first time after he unexpectedly began cantering. She bravely rode again in the afternoon and talked about nothing else when she got home. “I really don’t think it was the horse’s fault,” she told me last night. “He just got up on the wrong side of the paddock this morning, that’s all.”
June 14: Last night, my 7 year old made this, attached it to a balloon, and asked me to go outside with him. Out on our street, he said a prayer: “Dear God, please let this get to a poor person. Or a rich person. Because the rich person will give it to the poor person. Because I writed it that way. Amen.”
He had wanted to attach 2 dollars of his own money, but it wouldn’t float with the extra weight, so he decided to direct the poor to our church, instead.
June 17: The view from here. — at Beaufort,Sc.
Actual conversation at our behind-the-scenes tour of the Georgia Aquarium:
Guide: Before we go any further, does anyone have any questions?
Woman: I have a question. You keep referring to your animals. But I thought you only have fish here. Do you have animals here too?
Guide: Well… Fish are animals.
Woman: Are they? Because I thought fish were… fish.
Guide: …..
Another woman: Yeah. Fish are definitely animals.
Woman: See, I did not know that.
Guide: Let’s move on.
July 4: What’s more American than Andy Warhol? — at Cheekwood Botanical Garden & Museum of Art.
My 10-year-old loves to read, but she’s been fussing about having to choose a book this year from a summer reading list- She seemed determined to hate it.
Unfortunately for her, she chose A Wrinkle in Time.
On Sunday, we read chapter one- She read her copy and I read mine and she grumbled the whole time. Monday, we read chapter two. Yesterday, we read chapter three. Last night, she shyly asked if she could go ahead and read more without me before she went to sleep.
At one in the morning, she burst into our room, announced that she’d finished, and said it was the best book she had ever read.
Madeleine L’Engle: Still PWNing kids after all these years.
July 10: Keeping cool with the kangaroos at the Nashville Zoo.
July 11: Bribing the kids to keep reading this summer with a little Starbucks time. — at Starbucks.
My 7 yr old: I don’t want to ride the elevator to the top of the St. Louis Arch! I’m afraid of heights!
Me: Well you sure seemed to like staying on the 26th floor of Loews in Atlanta.
My 7-yr-old: Acshully I’m not afraid of heights. I’m afraid of VERY high heights. And the Arch is VERY high!
Me: Okay then, in that case we’d better not go on any more airplane trips.
My 7-yr-old: NO! Airplanes go VERY, VERY high. I’m not afraid of VERY, VERY high heights. I’m just afraid of VERY high heights.
Me: …You win.
July 13: It doesn’t get any better than this. When you’re ten, anyway. — at Grant’s Farm.
July 14: Oops.
Dennis: Look kids, there’s the women’s prison!
7-yr-old: What?! Why would WOMEN go to PRISON?!
Dennis: Because they did bad things, like steal stuff.
7-yr-old: You mean like jewelry?! Because a woman would only steal jewelry, right?
Uh oh. Looks like it’s time for the “A woman can steal anything a man can steal” talk…
July 14: Quick pit stop to see our hero. — at Giant Superman statue in. Metropolis, IL.
Dennis and I were watching World Cup coverage during a date night a couple of weeks ago- A former soccer player was providing analysis of the day’s games.
“Do you think he’s handsome?” Dennis asked.
“Oh… NO,” I said quickly. Sure, this guy looked like he belonged on the cover of Esquire, but I wasn’t going to say that! “I don’t think he’s handsome at ALL. I mean, I bet other women would probably say yes, but I PERSONALLY think he’s just VERY average looking. Nothing special there. Nope. No, no way. Uh uh. Forget it.”
“Really?” Dennis said. “Wow. Because a lot of people have told me I look like him.”
Long pause.
“You realize there was no right way to answer that question,” I said.
“Yeah,” he said. “I just realized that.”
July 20: Blueberry and blackberry picking on the Buffalo River. One of our favorite summertime activities!
July 26: Celebrating another great performance! We are having a fantastic summer. — at Street Theatre Company.
August 1: New school, new hairdo. My baby is growing up!
Me: Hey Bruiser, could you get that sheet off the printer for me so that Punky and I can finish this poster?
7yr old: Okay, but this is the LAST thing I’m doing for you today! You keep making me DO things and I’M TIRED OF DOING THINGS FOR YOU!
Me: Okay, that’s fine with me. I won’t do anything else for you today, either.
7yr old: NO! I still want you to look up a Pokemon Halloween costume for me when you’re done!
Me: Oh no, I think I’ll pass. We’re not doing anything for each other for the rest of the day, remember?
7yr old: OKAY! I WILL do things for you! For the rest of the day! I WILL! (Runs to printer)
10 yr old: Well played, Mom. Well played.
August 26: My daughter, just keeping it real.
For many Americans, Labor Day is about eating barbeque, drinking beer, swimming, and bargain-hunting, but I’d like to take a moment to remember the REAL reason for the holiday– to honor the brave men and women out there who work for a living. And so I’d like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who has/had/will have a job– Thank you for your your service to others. Without all of you, our great nation would be pretty much…
unpopulated.
September 10: If only I could have showed myself this Tweet back in 1992…
September 15: My 7-yr-old really wanted a standout Pokemon card to trade with his friends at school tomorrow. So I made him this. And now? I am very afraid.
My 7-year-old was playing tag with friends over the weekend when he and a little girl collided with each other– Both of them fell pretty hard and my daughter, who’d seen the whole thing, told me the little girl’s lip had bled afterward.
“My jaw hurts now too, Mom,” my 7-year-old complained. “It hurts BAD.”
“I bet it does,” I said. “Did you cry after it happened?”
“No,” he said sadly. “I just laid there for a long time, but I didn’t cry. I was trying to be a Man Up.”
Overheard from the next room…
7-yr-old son: “Did you burp or fart at school today?”
10-yr-old daughter: “No.”
And that was the extent of the conversation. But really, what else matters?
TRUTH: I worked with a guy once who was fired from his high-profile position after calling in one morning and saying “I have a problem with my eyes. I don’t see myself coming in to work today.”
Smart? No.
Unforgettable? Yes.
I ran into the mom of one of my daughter’s former classmates recently- Within the course of a two minute conversation, the mom managed to let it drop that her son was captain of his football team, president of the student council, King of Spain, starring in his own sitcom on Disney, blah blah blah blah blah. She didn’t even pause to ask how my daughter was doing.
I see this mom fairly often, and I have SWORN that the next time we chat and she starts showing signs of “excess braggage,” I’m just going to say, “Well, my daughter ran for class president and lost, she’s not on any leadership councils, she doesn’t play an instrument, she shows no major talent in sports, and she has to work hard for every good grade she gets, but we still love her so much and we think she’s special, too.” I just really want to see what this woman says in response.
I am finding that the Mompetition is only getting worse as my kids grow older and the achievement stakes get higher, and I have had. About. Enough.
November 10:
My 10-year-old brought home her art class sketchbook last week. Each page had a prompt at the top- ‘Something hard.’ ‘Something soft.’ ‘Something fuzzy.’ ‘Something big.’ On each page, she’d drawn the kinds of things you’d expect– a rock, a pillow, a feather, an elephant.But when I got to the next page, tears sprang to my eyes. The prompt was ‘Something valuable to me.’ She could have chosen any number of treasures– her favorite necklace, maybe, or her collector’s edition of the Lord of the Rings trilogy– Instead, she drew… us.
She drew her family.
This picture means more to me than any perfect report card or blue ribbon or MVP trophy ever could– because this picture tells me what’s in her heart. It shows me where her priorities are, and it reassures me that even if she doesn’t show signs now of becoming a world-class singer or champion athlete or stunning intellectual or an entrepreneurial whiz, she is most definitely on the path to leading a rich and rewarding life that’s filled with laughter and love.
And as a parent, what more could I possibly want for her?
When a hawk swooped right over my head and landed in a nearby tree, I looked up him as I rode by. “Hi there, Hawk!” I said in a cartoonish voice. “Don’t mind me!” When a couple of songbirds flew alongside me for a moment, chirping merrily, I gave them a withering look and said, “What am I, Cinderella?”
A few minutes after that, a cat appeared on the path ahead of me. As it saw me approaching, it started to run. “Run all you want,” I told the cat as I rode up alongside it. “I’m still TOTALLY going to beat you.” I laughed a loud evil villain laugh as I prepared to make my getaway– and then I heard someone clearing her throat. I turned and looked behind me and saw a woman on her bike, just a few feet away from me. She looked very concerned.
And that’s when I realized for the very first time that I… Um… Okay, this is harder than I thought it would be.
I TALK TO WOODLAND CREATURES.
The first step is admission.
“Why, thank you– but I don’t think so!” I said. “I mean, I thought about it in college, but I became a reporter instead and now I’m way too old.”
“You’re not too old!” my daughter retorted. “Look at Katy Perry. She’s REALLY old!”
“Katy Perry is NOT really old,” I laughed. “She’s like, 30.”
“Yep,” my daughter replied. “And I bet she’s covering grays. Mom, if Katy Perry can do it, so can you.”
Friends, the next time you think you’re not up to something, I urge you to recall my daughter’s sage advice:
IF KATY PERRY CAN DO IT, SO CAN YOU.
(And she’s probably covering grays.)
She got to a My Little Pony rendition of ‘Let It Go’ and I overheard him say, very convincingly, ‘Oh, I LOVE this song!’ I was cracking up in the next room, because I knew that couldn’t have been further from the truth.
I was reminded yet again that Dennis Ferrier truly is a great dad.
(He is also an honorary Brony now, whether he likes it or not!)
I got there at 2:30 and asked for my turkey at the counter. Neither of the men spoke much English and they seemed confused about why I was there. They called the convenience store owner over, who also didn’t speak much English. “It’s under Dennis Ferrier,” I said. “He ordered the turkey on Monday. It was supposed to be ready at 2.” The men consulted some scraps of paper hung up by the drive-thru window. “Oh,” the owner said finally, holding up a scrap triumphantly. “You, yes?” I looked at the writing on the paper. ‘BETH STEVENSON,’ it read. ‘4:00.’
“No,” I said. “Dennis. Ferrier. 2:00.” They conferred again.
“Give me 5 minutes,” the owner said. “We get your turkey.” A few minutes later, one of them came out with a small take-out carton. “Total is $22.50,” he said.
“Uh. No. We ordered a whole turkey,” I said.
He gestured at the carton impatiently. “Yes. Turkey,” he said.
“No,” I said. “A big turkey. A whole turkey.” The man shook his head and called the owner back over.
“We ordered a whole turkey,” I told the owner.
“A whole? Turkey?” he asked.
“A BIG turkey,” I said. He just stared at me. I paused. Was there a universal sign for whole turkey? I couldn’t think of one, so instead I pantomimed carrying a turkey on a tray and putting it down. “A Thanksgiving turkey!” I said. Blank stare. “You put it on the table,” I said. “In front of your family.” Nothing. In desperation, I pretended to slice my air turkey with a knife. “And then you CARVE it,” I said. “And you GIVE THANKS.”
The owner looked around in consternation. After a moment, he went over to the deep fryer and lifted it to reveal a whole turkey bubbling inside. “THIS YOUR TURKEY!” he said triumphantly. He began talking quickly to one of the other men in their native language. By his gestures, I could tell he was instructing him to take out the turkey and wrap it up for me. They argued back and forth for a moment.
“Um, are you sure that’s my turkey?” I asked the owner. “Is it even done?”
“Done? YES, it’s done,” he said grandly. “OF COURSE!” The other man looked dubious, but after some hesitation he took out the turkey, put it in a tray, and covered it in plastic wrap and I paid for the thing and brought it home…
And now I can’t sleep… because I’m scared of my gas station turkey.
December 1: Just found this in my 7-yr-old’s backpack. Apparently, he’s been using our wi-fi connection to channel God each night at bedtime. This may explain why we’re having bandwidth issues…
While my 7 and 10 year olds were playing together in my daughter’s room yesterday, they got into an argument about something. The dispute ended with each of them in their own rooms, doors shut. A few minutes later, my son came downstairs and I asked him to go tell his sister that dinner was ready. He dutifully went back upstairs, opened his sister’s door, said “Mom says dinner is ready,” and closed it.
After a moment, though, he opened the door again. “I forgot to close this door in anger,” he explained to her hastily before SLAMMING it shut.
Point made. Eventually.
December 4: Proof that EVERYONE REALLY IS LAUGHING AT ME.
December 7: They asked me to take this picture of them. *heart melting* — at Helen, GA (The Alpine City of Georgia).
My seven-year-old got a haircut yesterday, and when the hairdresser asked how he wanted it cut, he requested “a puffy square.” I predict this groundbreaking cut will be the next big trend in Paris, New York, and Milan.
And it all started at the Highway 100 Great Clips.
I’d like everybody to take a moment of silence right now for the rich. I just finished a little last-minute shopping in the Green Hills area and I have to tell you, rich people are STRESSED today.
I mean, they’ve got to pick up their specially ordered racks of lamb and their châteaubriands and their organic wines and their cave-aged Emmenthaler cheeses… They’ve got to make last-minute stops at Tiffany and Calypso St. Barth and Louis Vuitton… They have to subject their luxury cars to bumper-to-bumper traffic… And even the VALET STANDS are packed! Add to this the fact that most personal assistants have insisted on taking this week off and you’ve got a real rich people mess on your hands.
I totally understand why I got bumped and elbowed a good half-dozen times today and why most of the looks I got were glares and why no one would let me into traffic – these beleaguered rich people are in CRISIS MODE right now- and who can blame them?
So let’s all say a silent prayer today for rich people. For them, this is a really difficult time of year.
December 24: Ever since I married 12 years ago, we’ve gone out for Chinese or Thai food every Christmas Eve. “Make a cheese!” our waiter said before he took this picture. He’s been our waiter since our oldest girls were 8 and 10! —
So! I have a fever, I ache all over, and I haven’t gotten out of bed yet today.
This is just a cold, right?
HAPPY 2015, EVERYONE!
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